Home and Ghosts
by Fayth3
Summary: Mal ponders on what River is to him.


There was a vid scan that Mal had waived from the Earth-that-was whilst he was dirt-side one time. Some creepy film about a boy, who saw the dead, heard the ghosts and spoke to spirits who wanted him to fix things.

Mal had wondered on what it was that spirits needed fixing since they were long gone, but Wash had enjoyed the scan even though Jayne insisted on sleeping with the lights on for nigh on a month.

In truth he had all but forgotten the vid until that moment on the derelict ship when he had looked up and seen Reaver leftovers.

_I see dead people._

His heart had plunged into his stomach and icy tendrils clung to his veins, cooling his blood as it throbbed around its body, sluggishly and almost fearfully.

Then he'd looked over at River, her eyes calm and yet somehow far more frightening than the horrific tableau on the ceiling.

"I followed the voices," she'd said, her eyes intent on the people stripped and desecrated above them.

It was then that she'd reminded him of that child who'd been plagued by the deceased, forced to grow up and be old before their time.

Destined to scare the gos-se out of him.

Not that River ever truly scared him, not even when she'd slashed Jayne, not even when she'd gone kwong-juh duh in the bar and damn near killed everyone. Not even after Miranda.

But she did unnerve him.

Serenity was his baby, his love and his life. He opened his eyes every morning and saw her and was content with his place in the verse. He breathed her in and felt her settle into his lungs like essential oxygen. He was aware of her every inch, every twinge, every creak, every need. He knew her in ways that he didn't even know himself.

Which was why it had been damned unsettling for him to turn a corner and see River sitting crossed legged in the walkway outside his room, smiling and laughing to herself.

"That ain't a safe place to be, darlin'. Folks might trip over ya."

"Serenity lets me know if folk come this way," River had said, somewhat more lucid than usual.

"That right?" Mal grinned tolerantly. "Old girl saying somethin' amusin'?"

River had cocked her head to one side and glanced at him through her tangled hair. "Metal parts tell of long times. Captain plays fast and loose with runners and finds the pot not sweetened by the white. Dizzy, aching with shadows and walks into the control room. Smooshes head." She clasped her hand to her mouth and giggled.

"How the hell did you—?" he trailed off and looked at the piece of wall that she was giggling at—with.

Mal's stomach turned. How in the tyen shiao duh did she know about that? Only Zoe knew about the time the Alliance had almost caught him because some dirt-side scum had slipped him some drugs which made him walk into the control room and knock himself out on the dash.

"Tales told and cold metal makes for warmth," she'd said and he'd had nothing to say to that, backing away.

It never occurred to him to ask how he'd understood exactly what River had said.

How was it that he'd lived in Serenity for so long and yet she spilled her secrets to a crazy little moon-brain like River?

He'd been jealous of that.

Jealous of the way that River could move about his ship like a ghost, jealous of the way that she seemed to fit into Serenity like a moving part that Kaylee was always on at, whereas Mal sometimes felt he could leave her and she'd never know.

But after Miranda he wasn't jealous, and he wasn't afraid. After Miranda it was hard to tell what his feelings on River were.

He didn't pity her even though he knew that she'd been through hell and out the other side. He didn't hate her for bringing the heat of the Alliance down on his neck. Nor did he fear the weapon she had been forged into.

Maybe he feared what she did to him. Kaylee was his mei-mei, practically a sister and Zoë, Zoë had always been his solder, his right arm. Inara was a could-be-never-was but River?

She was a broken ghost, dancing her way through his ship and becoming a part of it.

As if conjured by his thoughts, she was suddenly there, floating down the hall with a light dress, swirling in ragged tendrils about her legs.

He watched as she danced her way through the metal hallways of Serenity, like she was a ballerina on the stage, or just dancing in the breeze, carefree and careless. Her feet made no noise as she tapped her way along the corridor, her hair swished as she spun and yet somehow managed to leave the air undisturbed and peaceful.

River was a ghost.

A beautiful, ethereal spirit who had somehow become essential to Serenity.

"Hey, little albatross," he greeted, his voice gentle and she looked up at him with big dark eyes.

"I don't see dead people," she admonished. "I only hear them."

"What have I said about reading people's minds?"

River frowned, wrinkling her nose in a way he found all kinds of cute. "I wasn't reading. You were talking too loud."

"I'll look to that." He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying not to think too deeply about how he thought of River. Not fear, not pity, not jealousy. "So what'cha doing all by your lonesome?"

"Simon's playing with Kaylee." She rolled her eyes and Mal hid a smile at the thought of his cheerful mechanic and the stuffy doctor.

"Doc's doin' an awful lot of that recently."

River gave him a look as if to say that she knew. And she probably did at that, her room being so near Simon's.

"Zoë is sleeping and Jayne is polishing his gun."

Mal's eyes widened. "You saw him…oh, like _actually_ polishing his gun," he smothered a choke, "right. Good old Vera."

So she was alone again.

Maybe that was what drew him to her so much. She was alone so often, more than anyone had a right to be and so she had bonded with his ship.

They were so alike in that way. Mal only had Serenity for so long that he wasn't sure how to go about including others in his life and it was hard to watch his lady purr under the hands of someone else.

Even if that's someone else was a ghostly little girl who could kill you with her brain.

"I was dancing with Serenity."

There was that jealousy again. Serenity was dancing with someone else.

"She likes you dancing with her?"

River nodded. "We spin in space. She likes it when I talk to her, says not nobody says much to her anymore. Not since Wash. Says you don't talk to her much anymore."

His jaw tightened as he thought about Wash. "Don't have much call to be saying much."

"She misses you," River said softly. "She hates it when you go away. Always knows, always cares. You're her Captain and she's your lady."

Mal swallowed a hard lump in his throat. That was exactly what he'd needed to hear. And that was essentially River. She always managed to say the right thing, even if it was shrouded in mystery, wrapped in insanity and buried in delusion.

"You know, man once said that there's a fine line between genius and insanity, wonder where you sit?" Mal questioned, inclining his head to the grinning girl.

"I sit by my Captain," she offered and threw her arms around him in an impulsive move that had him stiffening briefly before wrapping his strong arms around her waist in a hug.

Friendly hug. Brotherly hug. He was neither.

"Course he's not normal either," she teased and Mal laughed out loud, the sound startling him. It had been a while since he'd done that.

River always managed to make him laugh. Maybe it was because she was so innocent and yet had more experience than all of them put together, but sometimes she could be damned hilarious.

A good woman to make a man laugh.

A good woman who knew what he needed to hear, could talk to his ship and who felt like home.

And that was enough thinking on that when there was a reader right in front of him. He disentangled himself from around her.

"Well, this Captain's got Captainy thing to be getting on with, so scoot."

She unwrapped herself from around his waist and nodded. "I'll go and talk to the dead people in the engine room."

She walked away before he caught her arm, his eyes wide.

"There's dead people in my engine room?"

She looked at him with big honest eyes before breaking into a grin. "No."

"Brat!"

She laughed and he breathed a sigh of relief as she danced away, her feet making no sound and her hair fluttering in her wake.

Dead people indeed. She'd go and dance around the engine room, listening to the pistons and the mechanics and be…alone.

He didn't feel pity for her, nor jealousy or fear. He wasn't her father, her brother, or even some creepy uncle.

She wasn't his mei-mei like Kaylee or his soldier like Zoë. She wasn't Inara.

She'd made her home on Serenity and made Serenity a home. His home.

Mayhap it wasn't time to be thinking on all that River was to him just yet.

He reached over and patted the hull of his girl. "She's right, though. You are my lady." His eyes drifted down the deserted corridor where River had just been. "Glad she's been taking such good care o'you. I've been thinking that its time we took care of her too, what do you say?"

He turned on his heel, deciding that River had spent enough time alone. Maybe she could teach him how to talk to Serenity the way she did.

One day he'd know what she was to him but right now?

She was a woman who danced with his ship and listened to ghosts.


End file.
